


The wedding

by Little_Firestar84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1530356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/pseuds/Little_Firestar84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normal people keep quiet when the words "speak now or forever hold your peace" are uttered. But patrick Jane isn't normal- nor is Teresa Lisbon, especially for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> based on semi-spoilers, and ebcause of Grace's anatomy, because I shipped April and Jackson and I loved how he called off her wedding.

Tommy Lisbon hadn’t tried to talk his sister out of getting married; it would have been useless, as stubborn as his Reese was, and besides, there wasn’t exactly a reason why she wasn’t supposed to marry Marcus. Marcus was, after all, perfect. And there stood the problem: he was _too_ perfect, and had the tendency of following Teresa like he was a dog. And Teresa didn’t need a dog or an humble servant. She was a modern and independent, take-charge kind of woman who needed to be tested by a relationship, to have passion and the intrigue and the unexpected. 

In short: Marcus was the complete opposite of what- or better yet, who- Teresa needed in her life. 

Also, as much as she cared about the man, there was the small, and not so insignificant,particular that she wasn’t in love, nor loved, the FBI Agent.

Because she was already in love, and had been for a long time, with Patrick Jane.

Tommy, as he listened to the judge making his speech (Guess what? Teresa couldn’t have her beautiful wedding in Church, like she had always hoped and dreamt for, because Marcus was divorced), kept looking at Jane, sat in the back rows at the side of one of Teresa’s new friends, some Kim Fisher. 

The young man sighed, and would have shook his head, if Teresa hadn’t been at his side in front of the aisle, dressed in a marvelous white wedding gown. He wondered if they were idiots, self-lesionist or what: it had been clear since the first day he had seen them together that there was more than friendship, or a simple work-related partnership, between his older sister and her consultant, but for this or that reason, they kept pulling things off. He had heard about what had happened between Jane and Red John, so, until two years ago, he would have agreed with the fake psych on the possibility of (not) having a relationship with Reese. And ok, they had been apart for two years because Jane was escaping the law; but now they had been reunited, and they could have been happy together, both single and free and in clear need of each other’s presence in their lives. 

And yet… nothing. And Teresa, instead of taking charge of her life, was dating a man who was perfect for any woman but her, and that she didn’t love. All because she was too proud, or maybe too scared, to take the first step in Jane’s direction. 

And the idiot was allowing it to happen.

“…speak now or forever hold your peace.” Tommy turned in Jane’s general direction and noted that, despite the officer’s request, he was keeping it shout. He didn’t dare to defy Teresa, as he knew that she would have never talked with him until their dying breath had he dared to say “ _Please Reese, you love Patrick Jane, not this idiot, you just can’t get married to him.”_

Tommy shook his head. Apparently, all hope was lost. Marcus was already saying his vows, Teresa’s hand in his own, when suddenly, the judge lifted quizzically an eyebrow, asking “Yes?” a bit tentatively, his eyes fixed, if he wasn’t wrong…

Yes! Jane was standing on his feet between the two rows of seats, sweating in his brand-new three pieces suit, clearly in panic. Teresa had turned to look at him, open-mouthed, and was already in the process of taking the few steps dividing them to see if he needed something, if something was wrong (yes, he knew his sister that well) when the damn idiot shook his head and went back to seat.

The officer restarted from where they had interrupted, but after less than a minute the middle-aged man interrupted again the ceremony, turning again in Jane’s direction, this time clearly annoyed. “What now, son?” he almost screamed, all red in face. 

“Uhm… nothing, sorry.” Jane said, and then went back to his seat, Tommy’s last hope for a bright future for his sister gone. Oh, he could aired see it, like it was happening right before his eyes for real: Teresa would have gotten… well, _bored_ with the boy-scout, but she was too good of a person to end a marriage. So, she would have stayed with Marcus, unhappy, making sure that they would both end up resenting each other. 

“All right… as I was saying, I’ve had the pleasure of knowing Teresa and Marcus for quite some time and….”

“I LOVE YOU!” a voice screamed, and the whole wedding party turned toward Jane, standing again, taking the few steps that were separating him and Teresa. Tommy could see the nervousness, but there was also a glint of determination as he walked towards the woman he loved.

“I love you, Teresa.” He said again, more calm, looking again like the man Tommy had learnt to appreciate, had gotten to know, sure of himself and in control, and yet, there was desperation and sweetness in his sea-green eyes, all for Teresa. The younger Lisbon hoped that his sister would take the right decision, because Marcus was a good man, but… he didn’t look at Teresa like Jane was doing right in that moment, like she was the only thing in the whole wide world making sense and keeping him alive. 

“I’ve always loved you, but...” He repeated once again, smiling and laughing and crying all at the same time, and Teresa was looking at him astonished, like she was seeing him for real for the first time. “but… there was always something getting between us.” He gulped down a mouthful of saliva, and he didn’t add anything more, leaving that the words left unsaid between them would speak for him, knowing that Teresa would understand. _My family killed. Red John. Lorelai. My escape._ “And, I know that Marcus is a good man, and I should want for you to be happy with someone like him, but, I’ve always been selfish in love, and…”

Jane closed his eyes, and took a big breath before continuing. “And the fact is, that… I’ve always loved everything about you, even the things that I wasn’t supposed to, because we’ve always been so different. And I think it could be the same for you, too.” He took another few steps, until he was facing her, and took her hands in his owns, massaging sweetly and slowly her knuckles. 

“Teresa, I love you, and I want to be with you if you’ll still want me.” Teresa looked between the two men, Jane before her, her hands in his owns, Marcus at her back, grabbing her for an elbow, and when she looked in their eyes, she knew what she was supposed to. 

Tugging a little, she freed herself from the men’s grasp, and then toward Marcus, the FBI agent shaking his head and saying a single no in disbelief, a plea. 

“I’m sorry.” She answered, shaking her head and removing the engagement ring. She gave it back to him, closing his palm around the diamond solitaire, cupping his face as she repeated again and again and again how sorry she was- for everything. Then, she turned towards Jane. the happiest man anyone had ever seen- and gave him her hand. The former consultant smiled, a smile that reached his eyes and made Teresa happy and radiant, too, and together they run outside, until they didn’t reach Jane’s old Citroen and jumped in, desperately and hungrily kissing for the first time as he was turning on the ignition. 

But as soon as they parted, Teresa looked at him, either in shock or in panic, he wasn’t sure. She run her hands through her dark curls, upsetting the veil, and sighed, chanting “Oh God, no, no, no, no…”

“Teresa…” Jane asked her as he reached out, an hand on her naked shoulder. He was sweating and fearing what was about to happen, and yet, he had to say the words, had to give her a chance. One thing was allowing her to get married without knowing of his feelings; but now she did, and she could decide on her own volition what was best for her.“Teresa, do you… not want to do this?”

She took a big breath, and freed her eyes from the prison of her hands; then, she turned towards Jane, and, grabbing him for the lapels of his jacket, she dragged him to him, and kissed him. “Drive the car.” She ordered, and he did as she demanded. 

… and again he did as she demanded when he stopped the car after a few miles, when Teresa left the vehicle and started to pace,, hands on her hips and anguish on her face as she looked at him, finally registering for real what had happened. 

“Ok, listen, could you just… get back in the car? I fear there could be coyotes here…”

“Coyotes? Seriously? After what _we_ have done?” She looked at him like she wanted to fire her gun at him on the spot, and Jane made himself as small as possible, zipping his mouth shout, knowing all too well when he wasn’t supposed to try her patience. “Marcus didn’t deserve this, Jane…”

“Well, look at the bright side: he is moving to DC. You’ll never have to see or talk with him ever again.” She bushwhacked him without saying a sole word, but Jane got the message, this time all right. “Sorry. It was uncalled for.”

“Oh, really?” she almost screamed, huffing as she opened her arms wide. “Because I’d like to know what we’ll tell my family. Our friends and our coworkers. How the hell…” She said, hitting him in the chest with a finger, making him retreat until he fell on the hood of his car. “how the hell we will explain that we destroyed a good man so that we could… what, _date?”_ She spat the word like it was venom, and that awoke something in Jane. He stood before her, grabbing Teresa for the shoulders, looking with determination and passion at the woman in his arms. 

“You are right, Teresa, all right? I don’t want to _date_ you. I want the whole damn thing. I…” he took a big pause, and looked at his car, and then at her. “Las Vegas is eighteen hours from here. We could be back for Monday.” He stated, biting his lips and smiling. 

“How do you… know that?” Really, it was uncanny the amount of things he seemed to know, randomly showing off his immense knowledge. 

“Seriously, woman? Do you want to get into that now? When I just proposed to you?” he smiled and laughed and shook his head, his eyes teary as he still waited for an answer- _the_ answer.

“No.” she simply said, holding her breath and looking at him. 

“Ok, I think you may have to explain yourself a little here, because I found out that the greatest the stake, the harder the read. So… no, as you don’t want to get into how I know that Las Vegas is eighteen hours from here, or as in no, you don’t want to marry me?”

She smiled, and kissed him cupping his face, then she went to sit on the passenger seat of the Citroen, her smile never faltering. “Yes.” She simply said, and when the word left her lips, he laughed like he hadn’t done since he was a child, and run to his side of the car, and they drove into the sunset. 

Literally. 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt compelled to write this. Don't aske me why, or what it could be. I just did. and also, there may be another chapter, or maybe two, because the whole thing deserves being said- otherwise, I would have enver been able to sleep. So... here it is. The story is the same as the previous chapter, but said in first person from Jane's pov (I haven't written in first person in the last... 3 or 4 years, so there may be mistakes. And an horrid style.)
> 
> Also, a little note: towards the end, Jane mention Voltron. It's an hint to the season six episode 13, Black Helicopters, when Jane gives Abbott a Vehicle Voltron robot toy; The Voltron Universe was "created" by the American in the middle of the '80s, cutting and gluing together pieces of three, disconnected Japanese shows (Beast King GoLion, Armored Fleet Dairugger XV and Lightspeed Electroid Albegas) and "transforming" them into a single saga, divided in three chapters, Lion Force Voltron, Vehicle Voltron and Gladiator Voltron. Voltron used to hire here in Italy as well, and I was a huge fan of it- especially the Lion Force- so, having it quoted in the Mentalist made me giggle :)

Today, I watch Teresa Lisbon getting married. 

It’s a strange feeling, intellectually speaking; I’ve known Lisbon for over a decade, and in all our time “together” I’ve never stopped to think about her taking this step. I know I’ve taken her for granted; that’s why I’m here, dressed in my a brand new suit, looking at her marrying Pike: I’ve wronged her in the past, that’s why I can’t ruin this, no matter what people thinks. 

People, being not my old coworkers, like one my assume (I’ve learnt a long time ago that Grace and Wayne had a bet going about concerning the timing of our coupling), but Tommy Lisbon- although the young man simply looks at me with daggers in his eyes- and Kim Fisher. Kim has been the closest thing to a friend in this strange hour of need: she knew that I wasn’t going to say anything, and that I would have put on a mask to send Teresa away with a smile on my face, and she called me on it. Today she is sitting at my side, and sometimes she takes my hand in her own, sometimes she pats my knee affectionately. 

Don’t get me wrong: Kim will always have a special place in my heart, as the first person I spoke in my native tongue with after two long years, but as much as I’m grateful that I don’t need to talk with her to open up, well, this level of “intimacy” is still foreign with her. I’m not comfortable – I’ve never been comfortable with touching, with maybe the exception of Teresa- but I’m granting her this. Not only because I know that she means well, but because with Lisbon gone, I’ll only end up working with her, and I’d rather prefer having Kim as a friend than an enemy, given my past experience with the woman. 

She isn’t saying anything, there’s no need to, not when I can read her like an open book now. She’d like for me to call off the wedding, like many other people do; Tommy isn’t saying it at loud, but I know he doesn’t like Pike. Not because he isn’t a good man, but because, apparently, he is _too_ good. The youngest Lisbon has decided that his sister needs a rebel in her life, and he and Annie wouldn’t mind if I were the one taking up this mantle. But I’ve been selfish enough with Lisbon in the past, and she had been clear when she had told me that I have to stop taking decisions for her too. 

So, here I am today. Allowing Teresa Lisbon, the woman I’ve loved for many years, to marry another man, despite this not being the wedding she had always desired; Lisbon may be a vixen in bed (no, I don’t know it for personal experience, but she is a messy woman. And messy women makes the best lovers.) but she has been raised a catholic, and spent her whole childhood in school belonging to priests and nuns, and there was that part of her she would never acknowledge- not even under torture – that simply wanted to get married in a Church, with flowers and maids of honors and a flower girl. Instead, she is getting married in a court of law (Marcus is divorced, but I don’t blame him for this; I know how work can be hard on a marriage, Angela and me had our troubles as well, and got close to separate in two occasions), and the only thing she had of the traditional wedding is the white wedding gown. 

The judge starts to talk, and I walk Teresa and Marcus looking at each other; she is smiling, but I can see the nervousness. Poor woman, I understand her, this is, after all, the last day of her life as she knew it. Today she gets married to Marcus, and tomorrow… tomorrow, she’ll have a step-son, an husband and will be on her way to DC, leaving us all at her back. It’s what she had always wanted deep down, being able to have a career and a family, and that’s exactly what she had always deserved. It’s why I asked for a job for her when I returned: I caused her downfall, and I had to make up for that; despite that, she did all on her own, taking promotion after promotion in a flash, and making a man like Marcus Pike fall for her.

Will I suffer when she’ll be gone? Of course I will, and I’ll be able to write her any longer, as it wouldn’t be right to interfere in the life of a married woman, for the both of us, but, as I said, she deserves it - I wonder if Tommy is right, thinking that I’m an emotional self-lesionist – so, even if I love her, and even if I hear in the back of my mind the words _“speak now or forever hold your peace”_ I don’t say a word. Kim grabs my hand, and if I wasn’t me, I would be probably crying like a baby right now, and I’m almost sure that it’s over and we are both finally free- you know what I mean- when I hear Marcus uttering his vows. 

Those are the traditional vows. The man didn’t even think about writing his own vows, like Teresa didn’t inspire perfection and love and poetry in the men who had been lucky enough to have her love. Listen, I’m not saying he should have written a poem or a movie script or whatever; but is it really that hard, to connect mind, heart and hand and write down two sentences? If I would be marrying Lisbon, I would have done so. Actually, I think I would have written a poem, or a movie script, because there are not enough words to describe her- she is beautiful inside out, my Teresa. 

I wonder if can allow that to happen. Can I allow Teresa to marry such a man? I don’t think so: maybe I doesn’t deserve her – I think we already went through the whole “I, Patrick Jane, wronged her, Teresa Lisbon” speech – but it doesn’t mean she has to settle down with a man who’s not perfect enough for her. 

So, I stand up, without caring on all the eyes pointing at me, and I look at the judge. The middle-aged man immediately notices me, and when I notice that Lisbon is looking at me, worried, I remember what she told me: _stop taking decisions for me_ and without even saying I’m sorry, I sit down again, hearing breaths of reliefs coming from the groom’s side. 

Interesting: they don’t think she can actually marry him. I stop to think about what it could mean, and much to Kim’s chagrin, I stand up once again, but when I see that everybody is annoyed with me – I think even Lisbon seems a little murderous right now- I ask for forgiveness and goes back to seat. The judge starts again, and Marcus says his vows again, when I finally remembers something. 

Teresa told me that she wanted to choose on her own; but is really a choice when you’ve got only an option? Right now she is taking Marcus, a man everybody sees as a saint, but who can’t even write his own vows and decided to accept a promotion on the other side of country despite having a son here- trust me, I know what it means losing a child, so I would never do such a thing – and she doesn’t think I love her. 

If I really want for Lisbon to take her own decision… I have to tell her, man up for once in my life. 

“I LOVE YOU!” I scream as I stand up for the third time; but to avoid temptation, this time I leave my row of seat, and I take the few steps that separate me from the woman I just confessed my feelings to. It’s not easy, not that I ever thought it would be, and I don’t think I’ve ever been that openly nervous- being in control doesn’t mean being calm, it just means I’m that good at putting on a mash and a show – but I’m determinate to see this through. Then… whatever will be, will be.

“I love you, Teresa” I tell her again. I’m calmer and more in control right now, and some would call me arrogant, but I’m not, because buried along with all of this, there’ also fear that she will reject me anyway. I just hope that Teresa knows me as well as she had always claimed, because all I want to tell her right now she can read it in my eyes, and there are so many things I want to tell her… too many. Like that she is my everything, the reason I kept waking up in the morning, that she is a guiding light that saved me, both from my darkness, and both from premature death. 

“I’ve always loved you, but..” I say, and suddenly, I’m crying and laughing and smiling, all together, and she is looking at me, _me,_ like she had never seen before, like with fresh eyes. “But there was always something getting between us.” I don’t need to say more: she has been there, after all; Red John, my family getting killed, Lorelai, my escape in South America: she doesn’t need to be reminded, as she has been there, with me, in some form, every step of the way. 

“And, I know that Marcus is a good man, and I should want for you to be happy with someone like him, but, I’ve always been selfish in love, and…” I close my eyes, taking a big breath before continuing, before it’s harder than I thought, but I’ve started and the words just can’t stop. “And the fact is, that… I’ve always loved everything about you, even the things that I wasn’t supposed to, because we’ve always been so different. And I think it could be the same for you, too.”

It’s true, I think, as I close the distance between us and I take her hands in my own, massaging her knuckles – she knows what touching means for me, after all. 

Rationally speaking, there’s no reason for me and Teresa to work; we are so different, from our uprising to our beliefs to the way we see life; and yet… yet, I’ve never worked with anyone as good as I do with her, and there’s a part of me that thinks that were we to take this step and venture in a life together, we would rock that too.

“Teresa, I love you, and I want to be with you if you’ll still want me.” I say, and at that point, she is already looking between me and Marcus; I can see he is mad, and he is holding back only because he fears that trying to kill me would get Teresa mad enough to call things off. Then, Pike grabs her for an elbow, and I can barely resist smirking in triumph: Teresa would never like such a physical display of possessiveness, and just like I thought (actually, I merely hoped it, but my ego has been wounded enough in the last few weeks) she frees himself from his grasp. 

Now, I can’t see Teresa’s eyes as she has now given me her back, but Marcus’ expression, that I can see pretty well, and he isn’t happy with the result. He simply shakes his head as Teresa takes off her ring and cups his face as she gives it back, saying how sorry she is, again and again and again.And that’s another reason I love her: because she is so compassionate. I’m sure that she knows, deep down, that things with Marcus wouldn’t have worked in the long run, and yet she is sorry for him- for this. 

She finally turns, and I’m pretty sure I’m displaying the biggest grin Austin had ever seen, if her smile is of any indication, and when she gives me her hand and we run outside, I feel the happiest bastard on the whole planet. We reach the Citroen- my baby is back for exile too, even if her residence was Malibu and not South America – and we haven’t closed the doors yet that she is already attacking me. God, the way she kisses me… I’m not sure I’ve ever been kissed like that, and from the way my Teresa (yes, I can finally call her that) shivers in my arms I think it’s the same for her, too. Because our love is not only about love and desire, but also hunger, need, and lost time that will never return. 

We part, and I smile like the Cheshire cat as I try to turn on the ignition- my hands are trembling a little, I’ll admit – but I soon find that Teresa isn’t doing the same; instead of being enveloped in lust and bliss as I am, she is… well, I think that the only way to describe it is using the verb panicking. 

“Oh God, no, no, no, no…” she repeats again and again, running her hands through her dark curl. See, what did I say? I told you: she is panicking. Not that I wasn’t expecting any other kind of reaction. Once the adrenaline was going to burn off, she was bound to feel that way. Can’t I blame her for it? No. Am I happy? No freaking way. Because in my mind, a panicking Teresa is a Teresa who could get back into that court of law and marry Marcus Pike, that’s why. But at the same time, I am… relieved, I think it’s the best word. After all, now Teresa has the means to take a decision on her own accord, knowing all the variables. 

“Teresa, do you… not want to do this?” I ask her, and I know I should have said, “Teresa, do as you prefer, I’ll be happy as long as you are”, but I really can’t. I’d rather prefer being miserable and scary, and… well, manipulate her a little bit. Mind you, I don’t do it on purpose. It’s kind of second nature to me, that’s all. 

Then, without saying a word, she grabs me for the lapels, and kisses me- and oh boy, there’s indeed a lot of repressed sexual tension and lust here- and when we part, she orders me to drive the car, in her most commanding voice. I don’t need her to tell me twice: from now on, I’ll be her humble servant; not a lap-dog like Marcus, mind you, but, well… let’s say I hope that indulging her could help me getting some interesting favors from my bossy lady. Yes, I am a perverted pig, I’m aware of this, but what the hell? I’m almost fifty, in love from a long time with a beautiful woman, and I haven’t had sex in… four, five years? And let’s not talk about making love: it’s been over a decade since last time I joined myself with a woman, with both my body and my soul.

Soul… well, you get what I mean, right? Right. 

We’ve left the city, and we’ve just drove few miles, when, in a desolated neighbor of the suburb, Teresa panics again and orders me to stop the car. Again, I do as she tells me to, even if I’m not happy to. As I’m not happy to see her pacing along the road. This place looks like an hellhole, or some ghost town from a b-class western, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a coyote would suddenly appear like from thin air and try to eat her. Uhm. Maybe it was indeed the plot of some B-Rated western: the runaway bride eaten by a rapid coyote while trying to escape with her beau, leaving him alone to torture himself if it was better having loved and lost to death, or having loved and lost to another man -I’ve been there both times, and trust me: I don’t want to go there ever again.

“Ok, listen, could you just… get back in the car? I fear there could be coyotes here…” I asks her. She looks at me, and she is going to cry. I know that expression: usually, she had it back at the CBI, when she behaved like my boss with me, just to feel guilty about it afterward. That’s not good, not at all; I mean, I’m pretty sure that Marcus would never take her back, were she to return to him now, but her returning to Marcus would mean her calling things off (if we can call it) between us.

“Coyotes? Seriously? After what _we_ have done?” She looks at him like she wants to fire her gun at me on the spot, and I’m grateful for the lack of holster (unless she has one hidden underneath the dress. Man, that would be erotic. Deadly, but erotic too) and I makes myself as small as possible, zipping my mouth shout, knowing all too well when I’m not supposed to try her patience. “Marcus didn’t deserve this, Jane…” she tells me in a small voice. She confused, I get, I am too. I mean, until half an hour ago, I’d never said that I would have stopped her wedding…

“Well, look at the bright side: he is moving to DC. You’ll never have to see or talk with him ever again.” She bushwhacks me without saying a sole word, but I really get the message this time, so I look at the ground, admitting that I may have… overdid things a little bit. “Sorry. It was uncalled for.”

“Oh, really?” she almost screams, huffing as she opens her arms wide. “Because I’d like to know what we’ll tell my family. Our friends and our coworkers. How the hell…” She says, hitting me in the chest with a finger (and her bouquet), making me retreat until Ifall on the hood of my car. “how the hell we will explain that we destroyed a good man so that we could… what, _date?”_ She spats the word like it was venom, breaking my heart a little bit, but as she says so, my wheels start to turn, and I understand exactly her point. And for once, I have to admit that she is completely right. I grabs her for the shoulders, and I look at her, hoping she knows I mean business with my next words. 

“You are right, Teresa, ok? I don’t want to _date_ you. I want the whole damn thing. I…” I pause, and looking at her and then at the car, I quickly do the math. “Las Vegas is eighteen hours from here. We could be back for Monday.” I say, smiling lazily at her. I know it’s not her ideal wedding, but I promise that if she’ll say yes I’ll eventually give her the wedding she wants, white and filled with flowers and maids of honor, Annie as the flower girl and a long, lacy, light beige wedding dress- not this thing Marcus’ sister talked her into buying.

If she says yes… well, we are just few minutes from her place, and if we’re lucky enough, we’ll not meet anyone there. or maybe I could call Tommy, and ask him to get Teresa’s papers for us. In Vegas there’s no blood tests to do, nor any wait for the license. By Monday we could be back, and talk Abbott into getting her job back. I even already know how to bribe him into doing so: last week I walked past a comic shop in my neighborhood, and I saw a Lion Force Voltron Toy; it costed a little fortune, but he didn’t mind spending it for Teresa and her happiness (and granting her a place at his side). 

“How do you… know that?” I groan. Between the many things she could tell me right now, she wants to know how I know how many hours we should drive to get to Vegas.

“Seriously, woman? Do you want to get into that now? When I just proposed to you?” I smile and laugh and shake my head, my eyes teary as I still wait for an answer- _the_ answer, Teresa looking at me like a goldfish. She hadn’t said a word yet: I wonder if it’s a good sign.

“No” She says, her expression still the same. 

Ok, now, it’s when I panic, because I just can’t read her, and I don’t know why she told me no. The wedding? Vegas? Me knowing the hours between Austin and Vegas?God, how much I love being in love… and how much I hate it at the same time.

“Ok, I think you may have to explain yourself a little here, because I found out that the greatest the stake, the harder the read. So… no, as you don’t want to get into how I know that Las Vegas is eighteen hours from here, or as in no, you don’t want to marry me?” That’s what I meant why “hating being in love”. When I care about someone,reading them for me is pretty hard. I still remember when Angela tried to make me understand she was pregnant: at the end, she told me herself, with small words (aka: _Patrick, I’m pregnant,_ while indicating her belly with both hands. _You know, with a baby)_ , because I was scared her message was “I’ve got enough of you and your bullshit”. 

That’s something I’ve learnt lately- thanks to Teresa, I guess, as she had tried to make me understand this for years. I know it’s not a matter of moving on, because that’s something that I may not be able to do, never, ever- there’s a reason why there’s not a word to describeapparent who has lost their own child.

It’s about accepting reality, living with it, and knowing that I can love again; my heart is big enough for love again, all kind of love, and there’s room for more than a woman, and I hope, if we’ll be lucky enough (and if I’ll be lucky enough to have Teresa saying yes), for more than one child. 

She smiles. And I swear, I’ve never seen such a smile, not even when I got her the pony (now that I think about it, we could take few days of leave in a while, and fly to California for few days, see how he is doing), and cupping my face she kisses me. it’s yet again another kind of kiss -and I can’t wait to see how any different kind of kisses there are with my Teresa- and it’s so sweet it makes my hearts ache. That’s why I didn’t want to tell her of my feelings: she is so good, and I don’t deserve her. Like she doesn’t deserve a nuisance like me in her life. But if this is what she is choosing… so be it. I’ll do my best to be worth her love, and fill her life with love, affection, seduction, fun, closed cases, babies and whatever she may want. 

“Yes,” she just say, and yet, she is telling me everything; for the first time, I read her completely, like an open book, and I laugh, like I haven’t done since… since I was a child, I think. 

I take her hand again, and we got back into the car; and never stopping to caress and smile, we drive into the sunset- literally. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been repalced with a new one- it's still the same, minus one small particular. thanks to Jane Doe who pointed out to me that I didn't expalin a certain action done by Jane!

Once we gets to her apartment, Teresa retrieves her documents while I keep guard to the door, in case the groom would be back- I have no doubt that whoever knows Teresa and considers her family, friend, prefers seeing her with me, so I’m not worried about them- it’s kind of strange to think about it. Teresa is such a good person, loyal and faithful and kind, with a pure heart and I’ve never thought to be worth her. I doubted it so much I almost let it go of her. and yet, seeing the doubt printed all over her family’s faces helped me to man up and confess her my feelings. 

While I watch her running to her room, I lean against a window, still amazed of what alucky bastard I am, because one thing was telling her how I fell. But Teresa didn’t just hear me out: she left her groom and told me she reciprocates my feelings; I knew she felt something for me, I just didn’t know what it was and how deep it run. But now, here we are, ready to run to Vegas and elope- on the day she was supposed to get married to Marcus Pike.

Despite my begging, when she joins me in her living room I see that she has changed into something more comfortable; I’m not sure what I feel about it. I mean, I would have loved to drive the whole way to Vegas with her dressed as my bride at my side, but I can see why she prefers jeans and a T-shirt. At least she still takes the dress with us, and no- even if it’s not the dress she would have chosen for her, even if she had taken it to marry another man, I don’t care- ehy, if Wayne didn’t care, I don’t either. Besides, I’m planning on marrying her again as soon as possible. This time it will be the wedding she had always wanted to have, and she’ll be the one planning it (with my help, of course. I’d hate to pass for the husband/boyfriend/father who doesn’t care about sharing duties with his love).

Uhm. Maybe we could get married on Christmas. Or maybe on our first anniversary. Or maybe… I smile a little, few tears leaving my eyes as I dare to imagine what could once day be reality. I’m not a believer, nor I have faith, but were Teresa and I to have a child, I would allow her to Christen them, and I would support her every decision. So, maybe, who knows, we could get married on our child’s christening. 

“Happy thoughts?” she asks as she kisses me on the back of my neck, as I’m still looking outside the window. I turn in her arms, and I smile, kissing her sweetly. It’s just a peck, but somehow I think it’s more… affectionate than any make-out session we could have together. Don’t ask me why, but I think small kisses and pecks on the lips are the greatest form of love, affection and intimacy. 

I smile, and I hug her, like I did when I got back from South America and I found her waiting for me in Austin, and it’s astonishing how similar the feel is: back then, I was finding Lisbon after two years apart, today I find Teresa when I thought all was lost.

“You ready?” I ask her, holding her hand and searching for her eyes. What I mean is, _are you sure you want to do this?_ I don’t question her love for me- trust me, now that everything is out in the open, I can read her so much better – I just don’t want her to this for the wrong reasons. I want her to marry me because she loves me and can’t imagine her life without me – a boost to my ego and my self-esteem, and before you could ask, yes, I’m a mess of self-insecurities. Didn’t I tell you I love wearing masks, after all? – not because she fears that I’d take it back, or tell her that I was so hyped up during her wedding that I talked without wiring my mouth and my brain together so I really don’t know what I told her. 

“Teresa…” I say, my voice low and husky. I almost groan, because now she is _my Teresa_ and from my position I can see her bedroom. And her huge king-sized bed. I’m almost tempted to tell her that maybe we should reconsider the whole marriage thing for a few days, and opt for a more traditional approach to the whole thing, when I suddenly understand that no, I’m not going to make love to her in _that bed,_ never, ever. She and Marcus had slept together in that bed: I know that I sound crazy- she’ll marry me with the dress she had chosen for another man, after all- but I just can’t sleep with her over there. My assets are still frozen after the retrial for Red John’s death – man, law is quick to freeze your assets, but once they have to release them, it takes at least an year – and my paycheck as an FBI consultant isn’t exactly heavy, but I think I could be able to afford a new bed. And new linens. And a new mattress.Oh, and new pillows. _Many_ new pillows. My Teresa loves her pillows, after all. 

Basically, I’m going to buy her a brand new bedroom altogether. I wonder, though, if I should buy her a whole new home. Despite everything, this place is suited for a single, and not a family, and if Teresa will be ok with that, I think we may start working on an heir as soon as possible. As in, later today, after we had gotten married. After all, neither of us isn’t getting any younger, and there’s a good chance we’ll not conceive for a while. 

“I want this.” She says, kissing me on the corner of my lips. “I want _you.”_ She clarifies, kissing me once again on the mouth- where the hell is her bedroom? –and I laugh. And smile. And cry. Again. 

God. Teresa always told me I’m a good man. Well, I guess from now on she’ll have to tell me I’m a sappy, because, wow, I didn’t remember being so… emotional. Unless It’s Teresa>: she is an alpha, after all, and it’s well known that alpha women influence the production of progesterone of the people closer to them. Maybe she is going to menstruate soon and she is giving me PMS as well- don’t laugh, it’s true. I read it in a book once. I think. or maybe it could have been a movie? Sorry. I don’t remember a lot of what happened in Vegas, as I was wasted on alcohol the 90% of the time. 

We leave her place, and as we enter in my car, the wedding dress on the backseats of the Citroen, I wonder if I should go to the airstream and change as well; after all, Vegas is over 18 hours from here, and I don’t want to be all sweaty and rumpled after so many hours behind the wheel. _But_ the airstream is in the FBI parking lot, and if I go there, there’s a good chance I’ll meet people who had heard of the wedding- or worse, were there to begin with. All I need is with me, my papers and few money in case I have to buy a new suit, and I guess it will have to do.

We don’t talk a lot on the road for Vegas. Really: Teresa and I never need verbal communication, a look was enough. Our problem has always been the fact that we sued to wear masks with each other. Well, no more: so, I smile for the first four hours of driving – my face is almost hurting, but I really don’t care- when we stop in Sweetwater and have a late lunch. I take tea and eggs, as this morning my stomach was such a knot and I didn’t have any – while Teresa opts for coffee and a salad- she fears she’ll not enter in the dress any longer if she exaggerates. Poor dear, as soon as we’ll be married, I’ll order strawberries, chocolate, ice cream, whipped cream and champagne through the room service, and I’ll let her indulge in all her kink food fetishes as long as she wants. 

“I’m taking the next turn.” She tells me as she produces a small GSM device from her purse. “And yes, it’s non-negotiable.” She orders me, and I smirk. I think I’ll never be able to listen to her giving me orders without thinking of her as the mistress of my body and soul. 

Maybe I should start working with Kim exclusively from now on, as Teresa’s presence may be distracting. Unless… well, I’m pretty sure that were Teresa to use her sex-appeal as a blackmail weapon, I think I could turn into a humble consultant for her. 

We stop every four hours, more or less, always exchanging driving duties. I keep smiling, and in one occasion, I fall asleep, a little miracle for an insomniac as me, and I’m gone for almost Teresa’s whole turn. When she wakes me up and offers me a late snack (we’ve been on the road for over sixteen hours, and it’s almost 2 AM) we are just a couple of hours from Vegas, and it’s my turn to drive once again. Teresa wakes me up with a cup of tea- it’s terrible, but at least it’s tea- and kissing me on the lips. When I open my eyes I look at her, and her bright smile, and I don’t think she has ever been that happy. 

It almost makes me cry, knowing that she feels that way because of me. 

That this is all true. 

That she is mine.

So, the “little kiss” that she wanted to give me turns pretty quickly into a serious make-out session, with a lot of groping and roaming hands. There are also a couple of attempts to undo buttons and flies, but whistling teenagers passing us by and encouraging us to just get naked already make us jump, and we part, panting. 

I groan, hitting my head against the window, unable to leave my seat just now – my body has responded in a certain way to Teresa straddling me and trying to get rid of my clothes – and I swear that as soon as we’ll be in our hotel room (aka: as soon as we’ll have found an hotel) I’ll practically rip her clothes apart and jump her on the spot.

Yes, I’m an old, perverted pig, and I’m proud of it, as she is the one making me an old, perverted pig. Besides, I’m pretty sure that underneath all that Catholic school girl attitude, Teresa is a vixen in bed (remember the story about messy women? We already talked about it) so I’m sure she’ll not mind my (lack of) manners for once.

During the last two hours of our trip, I drive, and ask Teresa to check on her smartphone for more information on weddings in Vegas; I may have thought about getting married, her, but I admit I haven’t thought this through, and as big as my memory palace is, “how to get married in Las Vegas” hasn’t a room in it. 

Until now. 

Teresa puts in the GMS the address of the Clark County Marriage Bureau, and we park the car nearby- they’ll not open for other three hours – and in the meanwhile I take from the last phone booth in Vegas the Yellow pages and, with Teresa taking yet another coffee at a diner, I make some calls, both to the chapel to make a reservation for today at 10 AM, and then to an local hotel; I already know where we are going to spend our first hours as a married couple, and I don’t care if Teresa will tell that we have to drive to Austin asap: as soon as she’ll be my wife, I’ll give a taste of our honeymoon, few hours at the Venetians. It’s not the real deal, but for now it will have to do. And then, one day… One day, I’ll give her everything she wants, the prefect wedding and the honeymoon in Europe just like she had always wanted. 

We walk for a short while- it’s a nice zone of the city, this one, and besides, Teresa can handle herself, and I know she has a gun with herself, along with her badge -Wouldn’t be stopped because she was carrying an hidden weapon, my love. We don’t take too long, though, as we want to be the first there as soon as they open at eight, getting the license may be a few minutes deal, but there are still few arrangements to take before 10 am; we both have to change – and I have to but me some clothes, on top of that- and we need to find flowers. Yes, I know we could get them at the chapel, but 110 $ for few flowers? Over my dead body. 

When the office opens, we are the first to enter, and when the annoyed and lacking sympathy sixty-something lady asks for our IDs, I give her my FBI badge AND my driving license; she looks at me quizzically, like she couldn’t believe that such a man could work for the FBI (I’m not sure if it’s a compliment or if I should be offended), and while I took hold of Teresa’s shoulders, I explain with a grin that we met on the job and almost dying forced us to re-evaluate our priorities, and so we escaped to Vegas in the middle of a murder investigation. 

It’s a lie,but we are just playinga little; everybody here in Vegas are someone they are not, it’s the allure of the city, after all. When I came here almost four years ago, I too was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and now…

Oh. I just realized the irony of this all. I’m going to marry Teresa in the same town where, four years ago, I told her I’d been too hyped up to remember how I felt about her. Is she really all right with this? After all, we decided (well, I did) because it’s the only place I know where you want to get married, you get married, but maybe there are memories too painful to bear for her here, and I may be a monster who didn’t (and doesn’t) take in consideration her own feelings. 

We pay our 60$ fee, cash only, and despite my best effort to be her knight in shining armor, I can’t talk her into allowing me to pay for this all, and we end up making 50/50- but if she thinks I’ll allow her to pay for the honeymoon suite atthe Venetians, she is oh so wrong. 

Before reachingour chapel on the Strip- the wedding bell Chapel, famous for its Elvis impersonator- I stop to a local bank I used to use when I could be often spotted in Vegas; I still have a safe-deposit box there, and there’s something I need to retrievebefore the wedding, but I want it to be a surprise for Teresa. She complaints as I leave her in the car, but I give her a peck on the nose, telling her that she’ll like this surprise and it will be all worth it. 

I do what I set my mind to, and then, as we reached the neighborhood of the chapel,we walk around until we don’t find what we need. I think first about my suit, and on a whim I purchase a three pieces Kalvin Klein black number, with the addition of a tie (because I know Teresa loved the vest, and still does. I think it’s in many of her erotic fantasies of us.), and when I see Teresa’s pupils dilate as she seems me trying on the suit, I know it’s the one; we then purchase the rings (Celtic Claddagh wedding bands, as we are both if Irish heritage) and then flowers for both of us; I go with white, as it’s the color of her dress, but instead of roses, I opt for tulips and freesia, and a touch of green given by emerald-colored ivy; my boutonniere is a simple flower of freesia, but I feel like it’s the most precious thing in the universe right now.

We reach the chapel ten minutes to ten, and the personals guide us towards the dressing rooms, where we change in our new, fancy clothes; then, like it was a “real” marriage (you get what I mean, right?) I wait for her at the altar, with my best man (a boy who could be my son and work there as best man for the people who chooses to elope at the last minute, like us) and wedding music all around us. 

God. I can’t believe how I’m feeling right now, just like I did when I married Angela. And back I had been eighteen. And we had planned our wedding- as simple as it had been. But maybe… maybe it’s because I still can’t believe that it’s real. As… powerful as my mind can be, I still have troubles acting like I fully comprehend that Teresa wants me and she is mine now. There’s a part of me that thinks that soon I’ll wake up in my bed in the airstream, just to find out it’s been all a dream and she has gotten married to Pike and she is on her way to DC.

“Here comes the bride” starts playing and I turn, seeing Teresa and her maid of honor/witness/chapel employee walking towards me. She is beautiful, my Teresa. I don’t know if it’s because of the big smile that is illuminating her features, or because, different from yesterday, she had left her hair down, allowing it to curl naturally at the end. I’ve never told her that, but this my favorite look on her. And I think she just understood it, because as soon as she saw my expression she smiled more. 

“Ehy.” I tell her as she joins me in front of the aisle. My hands are sweating, and I feel like crying out of happiness; with Teresa right before me, I can finally accept that she is really mine. Suddenly I feel the well-known sensation of guilt I carry around with me since I can remember, and I wonder if I’m being right towards her. am I being as selfish as Marcus had been, when he has asked her to follow him half-around the Country? Does she feel pressured into marrying me? Is this the kind of wedding she wants? Is it hard for her marrying me here, in Vegas, where I gave up on a decade of celibacy- something I should have done for her and her alone – to sleep with mistress of the man who murdered my first family? The town where I took back that I loved her?

Suddenly, I can’t bring himself to wrong her again, so I grab her shoulders, and with a voice filled with panic, I ask her if this is really what she wants. 

Her next words make me the happiest man alive. “All I’ve ever wanted is you, Jane, so… I don’t care how, when and where, if this is how I get to make you mine for all the days to come… so be it.” she smiles and kisses me, while the Minister, a guy in his fifties, clears his throat, a bit annoyed with us, cutting so short our ceremony, doing things backward and going strictly to the end. 

Teresa, blushing, hides her face in my neck, and I take the chance to kiss her hair, remembering all the times I’ve done so in the past with this or that excuse, and I have to say, I can’t wait for when she’ll takealong, lavender-scented bath, as there’s nothing like the fresh scent of vanilla or lavender on her hair, few minutes after she has taken a bath or a shower- yes, I know it’s scary the way I got expert on the topic, and I am aware that it’s slightly stalkerish, but ehy, a man does what a man gotta do.

The officer is already starting to talk, when I suddenly remember that, in my pockets, I have the surprise I retrieved from my deposit box for her- I can’t believe I was so lost in all things Lisbon that I forgot about it – and I turn towards the man, stopping him with a lifted finger. “Uhm, excuse me, there’s something I need to give her, first.” 

Smiling and looking at Teresa, who’s clearly confused (and I think, a bit scared. I don’t blame her, not one bit), I took the item in my pocket in my fist, closing the fingers around it. then, I lift my hand to Teresa’s eye-level, and when I open my hand just a tiny bit, the chain, still in my hand, swing, like it was one of those old watches I used to hypnotize people back in the day. 

“Jane, what..” Teresa says, gasping, skimming with a perfectly manicured finger the gold of the jewel I’m presenting her with. I can see she is teary, probably because she had recognized the collier: it’s the one I bought for her eight years ago or so, the one she thought I had gave away. But I never did: I couldn’t, not when she was already the queen of my heart. In my mind, I always thought that I would have given this to her as a wedding present, but never, ever, I would have dared to think that she would have worn this at our own wedding. 

“It was yours.” I tell her as I move her hair out of the way and I close the necklace around her neck, deciding to leave the cross where it is, thinking that this way she’ll feel like her mother is with her in this moment. “I couldn’t get rid of it.” she gets teary, and I wonder what she’ll do when I’ll give her the matching earrings- they are in the other pocket, but I prefer to wait for another occasion to give them to her. Besides, Teresa doesn’t like wearing too many jewels

The ceremony is short, just few minutes, and even if the minister isn’t all right with it (the guy is grunting- I have to remember to put on a bad review for this place on Trip Advisor) we makes our own vows- sort of. Teresa repeats the words she has told me before, saying that all she has ever wanted was for me to be in her life and reciprocate her feelings, and I tell my own words as well (seen, Marcus? If Teresa is at your side, you don’t need weeks pf preparations, nor to be Shakespeare, to be inspired).

“I know that you’ve always thought of my words as empty promises, but now that you’ve accepted to be at my side, now that we’ll become one, I promise to do better. I’ll always be the man used to be, I can’t change- and I know you wouldn’t want me to either- but I promise to be worth you. Because Teresa, you inspire goodness and greatness, my love.”

I can’t help but think about Angela as she puts the ring on my finger, and when I do the same to her, I know her minds goes to Marcus and how she feels we wronged him, but I hope she knows it’s for the best: we would be all miserable, had she gotten through with the marriage. Besides, as I tell myself, the past is in the past, and reminiscing about it is pointless. After all, we wouldn’t be here if not for our past, so we have to be grateful for who and what helped us to get here. 

We kiss, and I take her in my arms, bridal style (and she is my bride, after all) as we go back to my car and we drive to the Venetians (something she doesn’t know about yet). She shakes her head as I park the car and help her outside, but she simply lean against me, her arm in my own, as we walk towards the reception; there, we are awaited by a young woman, a romantic at heart who seems very happy to see such a couple in love (but the truth is, she gets an instant crush on Teresa) and we get an upgrade (and all the delicious stuff I have planned to get Teresa) thanks to my smile and my affection for the love of my life- people can’t resist us. Now, what do you think will happen when we will produce a child? Easy: we’ll get the future ruler of the world, with our combined looks and my charisma and Teresa’s strength and attitude for weapons and command, that’s what.

Once we check in our room, we don’t leave for hours, and when I finally get lost in her body, in her… it’s the most perfect feel in the world, her face as she reaches the edge is something that will stay with me forever. Just like Teresa does and will, because I belong to her, body and soul.

 


	4. Chapter 4

We end up sleeping for a few hours after we get back in the early hours of Monday. Actually, it’s not completely true: Teresa ménages to sleep for a few hours (which amazes me, because it means she has already accustomed herself to the idea of being my wife, and she isn’t as scared as she’d like to say about telling everyone that we tied the knot). Me? I stay awake, leaning on my side, and watching, amused, her sleeping. 

Amused… and a bit in panic. Only now, with her asleep, I released that we’ve moved too quickly. It’s not like I doubt she is the one for me, because I don’t (nor I doubt I’m the one for her, for what it matters), but maybe we should have, I don’t know, talked? About important things- and no, I’m not talking about “how are we supposed to get married”. I’m talking about what comes next (usually).

And no, I don’t talk either about living arrangements, as I don’t believe that Teresa would move into an airstream trailer. I’m talking about family. I’m talking, in case you didn’t get it (meh, don’t worry- not everyone is as perceptive as me) about _children._

I’ve always thought that, were I to survive Red John (like I did) and walk outa free man (which didn’t exactly happen), I would have eventually gotten married (preferably to Teresa) and then had children. I’ve loved being a father to Charlotte, and it was a feeling I’ve been craving to get back for over a decade. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not (well… I wouldn’t, actually; it’s not like Teresa is already pregnant. Even if there’s a chance she may be.) replacing Charlotte with a new baby; Charlotte will always be my firstborn, my little girl. But now I know there’s enough room in my heart to love, equally and yet in a different way, every one of them: Angela and Teresa, Charlotte and any baby I would have with Lisbon (Lisbon-Jane, if I can talk her into it).

I just… I would love them in the same way, and yet I would try to make less mistakes. For example: I’d never scarify again my family on the altar of money and power and career. I still have to work for the FBI for three years and something before being fully free and pardoned, but I’m already telling you that, once done, if in the meanwhile Teresa and I will have children, I’ll leave my job to be a full-time stay at home dad (does the word “househusband” exist? I’m not even sure. And I don’t like it. Uhm. Maybe I should read again the dictionary, and this time a new edition. After all, every year thousands of words are added…)

But I don’t know how Teresa feels about it. I know she has always desired being a mother, but I’m also aware that this desire has always been at war with her fear of turning into her father. Also, let’s not forget that the other party it’s me: I wouldn’t be surprised if she had doubts about my abilities of handling fatherhood again- especially were we to get a girl. 

“God, you are such a stalker. I can feel you looking at me sleeping…” Teresa murmurs as she cuddles against my chest, her eyes still closed as she sighs, content. I kiss the crown of her hair, feeling a like bastard and weeping a little. Meh, I told you I’m a sappy when it comes to love…“And stop thinking you are thinking so loudly you are hurting my head.” She says in my chest, her words muffled by my skin. Then, she lifts her head and looks at me, deeply, running an hand through her disheveled hair. “Usually, I’m the one deep in thoughts… what’s wrong? is it because we have to tell the others? Jane, if you want to wait, I’m game, all right?”

My heart skinks a little as she says as, as I’ve been the one telling her, just two days ago, that I wanted to be her husband and I didn’t care about what any people was going to say. and yet, my lovely Teresa, is always worried for me, always thinking that, once done something on a whim, I may have to change my mind and could be scared of all possible outcomes. 

“Do you want children?” I blurt out. Way, classy, really. I’m such a master with my tongue when it comes to Lisbon (actually, I am. Just not when I have to sue said tongue to talk).

“Would have married if I didn’t want children? Of course I do, Jane! If I were just in love, I would have co-habited with you! Having children is the reason people gets married!” she grunts, tempted to slap me. Ok, apparently, I’m a sappy and an idiot when it comes to love, because I thought that getting married was a way for people to date exclusively…

I try to defend myself from the onslaught of her pillow-war, but at the end I realize I don’t have to, as she throws her arms around my neck and we engage in a very passionate make-out session, so passionate that I am about to get rid of hertop when she stops me and, giggling like she was a teasing teenage schoolgirl, runs into the bathroom, remembering me that we are supposed to go to work. 

Go to work… and tell everyone we are married, I mentally add. 

And that’s when the troubles start, at least for Teresa. General opinion has never been my thing (with the exception of when I used to be a psych and made millions), so it’s not like I care too much about what they’ll say about our wedding. But Teresa sees it differently. But I think it may have to do with the fact that, right now, she is pretty much job-less: Friday had been her last day in the Austin office, Saturday was supposed to be her wedding day with Marcus, and the following day she and her husband should have left for ten days in Hawaii. Then, at the end of the honeymoon… a position for both of them in DC. 

But Teresa left Marcus. Teresa decided to stay here. In Austin. Where there may not be a position for her any longer. She isn’t moving to DC, where there’s a position waiting for her in less than two weeks. 

We arrive at the headquarter, in the same car, and Teresa lowers her head and tries to hide like a lost puppy scared of being kicked; we see a couple of people who used to be friends with Marcus, and if looks could kill, we would already have been six feet under. 

But mostly, there are many cheering me up; dreamy women sighs as we pass by, like I was the hero of some trashy romance novel from Harlequin thanks to my grand romantic gesture, and the men pat me on the back calling me things such as lucky bastard and so on- Teresa is apparently the main character in many erotic fantasies here at the FBI; I don’t blame the guys, but if, once words get out she is my wife, I discover that they still think dirty thoughts about her… well, they are as good as dead.

Wylie doesn’t really say a lot when he sees us; I think because words are escaping him. I can almost see his mind, filled with all kind of thoughts. He starts at least ten sentences, and doesn’t even end one. he is getting as red as a tomato, the poor kid, so Teresa takes pity on him and hugs him- giving him a small kiss on the cheek. The next we meet is Cho, and despite having known each other for twelve, long years, he doesn’t say anything.But he does something even more important. 

He shakes his head, smiling, for real, of a huge smile that actually takes away my breath, because I’ve never seen my friend son happy before. And thinking that he is so happy because of me, for me, when I thought that only Wayne and Grace shipped us… yeah, I’m a sappy in love who’s almost crying because of his best friend, so what? Don’t judge me, I’m an old man with a big heart, after all. 

Kim is at his side (she has been supportive of me, so I think it’s only right if I try to get her with the man of her dreams, aka Kimball Cho. Uhm. Kim&Kim… they should trademark it. it has potential) and she is even more happy than him. She hugs both of us, and she is almost crying (wow, I make cry so many people I feel like the main character of a TV Show). She givesa small kiss to each one of us, and when I see Teresa reciprocating the hug, and… well, shining, I have no words to describe the way I feel, knowing she is happy and where she wants to be and she loves here and the people; maybe she doesn’t care about them like they were family like it was back at the CBI- not yet, at least- but she cares. She likes them. and she likes if they have a good impression of her. 

Kim’s eyes fall on hour joined hands, and she sees the marching shining gold adoring our fingers, and she puts an hand before her mouth, trying to stop giggling or to avoid say something indiscreet, I’m not sure. What I know is that, strangely, I blush. 

“Ehy, by the way, Abbott wants to see you both.” She says as she gets back to her seat. Teresa takes a big breath, and we walk into the lion’s den. Damn it, I should have taken that damn Lion Voltron toy robot with me to try to buy usa bit of time….

Abbott stands as soon as we enters, and shaking our hands (it’s a good sign. I hope.) he asks Lisbon what she is doing here, as she was supposed to be on her honeymoon. Teresa turns to look at me quizzically, and I shrug. Abbott was there too, so it’s not like he didn’t witness with his very eyes our little… spectacle. 

“Uhm… sir… it’s just that… it didn’t exactly worked out as we thought.” She says, getting as little as possible. God, I so feel the need to protect her right now… “I had a rough few days.”

“I know, agent Lisbon” he says, crossing his arms, looking at her like to say, _duh, I know, I was there ,_ “But from what I hear, you may still have an honeymoon to celebrate, after all.” he smirks as he looks ta our hands. Apparently, everyone knows our little secret…

At that moment, I see her, and I know she’ll never ask for her job back. So, there’s really one thing left to do. And I hope it will work- because after all, Abbott worked hard to get me back here to work for him. I’m the golden boy- like I’ve always been- and I’m sick and tired of having Teresa paying for my actions, whatever they happen to be. 

I take her hand in my own, like we were the heroes of some novel, and I look at Abbott, sweating and talking frantically. “If she leaves… then you can throw me back into a detention suite, because either I work with Lisbon, or I don’t work at all!” 

It’s not exactly a bluff-let’s say I know Teresa prays a lot and I’m praying too that this will work, otherwise she’ll be in DC working with a man who hates her (Pike) and I’ll be in jail here. 

And then, Abbott does something I didn’t foresee: he takes a letter from his desk and he makes it in many, many, many tiny little pieces. “I’ll inform the DC office that you’ll not be able to follow through with your new temporary position, as your presence is requested in the Austin office.” Temporary position? Since when Lisbon had asked for a temporary position? I know she had asked for a transfer, she had told me so herself few weeks ago…

“Did you really think I was going to allow one of my best agent- an agent I spent thousands of tax dollars on for training- get away that easily?” he smirks, and he looks at me amused. Apparently, the man has a lot of faith in me. and my persuasion powers. And in the fact that I would have manned up at the right time. 

“Thanks, sir.” Teresa tells him, but I dismiss him just nodding my head. Let’s not allow him to believe we are such friends; after all, we are still in an early stage of our relationship…

“Good, then you and your husband have still eight days of honeymoon left. Have fun, I’ll see in a few days.”

We leave the office, and as everybody else is already debriefing on a new case, we skip the salutations. We walk hand in hand, and when Teresa asks me what I think we could do during our honeymoon, I answer sincere. 

“Well, I think we should start planning our next wedding.”


End file.
